


Meet Not Cute

by fauxilya



Series: Flipped [3]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: And soon you'll see that i suck at summaries as well, Attempt at Humor, Bickering, Cuz i love red hair!alex, Elementary School, First Love, Fluff, I suck at tags, Light Angst, M/M, Neighbor au, Romantic Tension, SO MUCH FLUFF, They kept their historical looks, You Belong With Me AU, Young Alexander Hamilton, Young Thomas Jefferson, debate, fight me, flipped au, follow jamilton through the years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26067241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fauxilya/pseuds/fauxilya
Summary: The first time Thomas saw Alexander Hamilton, he flipped. He had never seen eyes so dazzling, hair so soft, or a smile so angelic as Alexander’s.Fortunately, he excelled at hiding his...crush.“You look like shit.” The words tumbled off his tongue unbidden.Alexander flipped him a finger.....or so he thought.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson, JAMILTON
Series: Flipped [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1953922
Comments: 8
Kudos: 65





	Meet Not Cute

**Author's Note:**

> Historical Fun Fact of the Day:  
> When Alexander Hamilton fought in the Revolutionary War, he would get up before sunrise and read in the candlelight, which was a habit of Jefferson's as well.

Thomas would never forget that morning when the Washingtons moved into his neighborhood.

It was mid-summer, the air simmering with heat waves. A cloudless sky stretched out above, like an empty canvas in desperate need to be filled with brushes and strokes. The big tree stood motionless in their backyard, its shade a small circle of coolness around the part of its strong root that protruded from the ground. 

The overflowing drowsiness brought forth a restless quiet, like calm before a storm, energy bubbling up waiting for the time to burst. Thomas had always loved this part of the summer, because it provided him with an excellent excuse to stay in all day with air conditioner on, humming as he worked on his homework undisturbed. 

The illusion was soon shattered by the honking of vehicle. _At 7 in the morning_. Thomas groaned; of course he was not granted the right to enjoy a moment of serenity. Curiosity eventually won over annoyance as he pushed himself up from his swivel chair, padded to his bedroom window, and brushed the curtains ajar to sneak a peek out.

A truck came roaring into the neighborhood, then came to a screeching halt right in front of the house opposite the Jeffersons’. Which was an anomaly, because the old house’s last occupant had been gone for years—so long that Thomas, an eight-year-old, had little knowledge of whoever used to live there. Thomas furrowed his brows as he watched a tall, middle-aged man with baseball hat on climbed off the driver’s seat, and walked to the back of the truck to unload its content. Box after box was lifted out, and dropped upon the ground with a loud thump. 

“Thomas!” He could hear his mother, Jane, calling him downstairs; her voice raised more than usual, indicating her high spirit. “Come meet our new neighbors!”

“Coming, Mom!” Thomas replied with more irritation than intended, before he slid his feet into a pair of slippers and slammed open the door, aiming for the stairs. 

Thomas blamed his suddenly soured mood on the unexpected news. He wasn’t the kind that got excited over meeting new people, but he didn’t hold spite for newcomers prior to first meetings, either; he was anxious about making first impressions, that was all. After all, whoever their new neighbors might be, they might stick around for a time long enough that made it necessary for Thomas to maintain a good relationship with them. 

“Thomas, dear, why don’t you go over there and see if they need help?” Once Thomas was downstairs, Jane nudged him towards the front door, forcing him to shove his thoughts aside. “I heard that the new kid next door was your age. Maybe you could make good friends!” 

_Friends_. Thomas held back a scoff—he didn’t want to hurt his mother’s feelings, as Jane was always enthusiastic about him making new friends. Thomas had exactly one friend, James Madison, and by being friends he meant sitting at the same table in the school cafeteria. He wasn’t that good at making friends, partly due to his social anxiety, and partly due to his nerdy hobbies.(Thomas was the star of his school’s debate club—not to brag, but he did win three regionals in a row.) It hadn’t bothered him much; he enjoyed being alone, anyways. 

“Huh. I guess.” He said, half-heartedly, but grimaced at the thought of stepping outside into the excruciating high temperature. He weighed his options, and finally relented under his mother’s glare. “Fine, I’ll go. And try to make friends,” he added hastily. 

Thomas crossed the yard and neared the truck, his heart picking up a pace faster than usual. He doubted he and the new kid that Jane mentioned would get along, but he didn’t need to be reminded of his constant failure at forming human relationships. He sighed to himself, feeling suddenly more self-conscious than ever. 

“Hello, sir.” He addressed the middle-aged man formally, remembering his manners. “My name is Thomas Jefferson. I live next door. My Mom sent me here to see if I could be of any assistance.”

He mentally kicked himself for the choice of words. Obviously, the fault went to his current read, _the Iliad_ , which he loved deeply, but just like his sister Lucy had said—and he quoted—“ _made you speak like you were some 8th century scholar_ ”. 

Luckily, the man didn’t seem to mind his weird manners. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as the man turned to look at Thomas, his expression kind. 

“Nice to meet you, son. You can call me Mr. Washington, or just George, I don’t mind.” The man offered a reassuring smile, wiping away a bead of sweat dangling on his chin. Thomas breathed out in relief. “Your mother is too kind, but I’m afraid I’m doing just fine by myself right now. See,” he put a gentle hand on Thomas’s shoulder, “there is my son, Alexander. Maybe you two can warm up a bit?”

Thomas looked in the direction that Mr.Washington had pointed out, as the older man focused his attention on his work once more. Sitting there on a stool with his back to Thomas was a petite boy, his hair a gleaming auburn in the summer sun, tied into a messy ponytail at the back of his head. From this angle, Thomas could see that the boy—Alexander—was reading from a rather impressively thick book. _The Leviathan_ , he supposed, as he owned a copy of the book at home, but it had been left rotting away in a far corner on his shelf once he found it too difficult for an 8-year-old to comprehend. 

Thomas felt a rush of jealousy stabbing his side as he watched Alexander turned yet another page with his small hand, seemingly immersed in his reading. 

In the corner of his eyes, Thomas could see his mom giving him a little wave. She had exited their house holding a bottle of pink lemonade, crossed the yard to offer it to Mr. Washington and took the chance to make small chats with their new neighbor. He sighed, wishing he had inherited his mother’s easiness with people. However, the strange boy had inevitably piqued his interest, so he decided to take on Mr.Washington’s offer and approached the new kid. 

Thomas cleared his throat. He lacked in ideas of what else to do. _Hey, I saw you reading a pretty sophisticate book and I thought we could be friends cuz I too am a weirdo?_ That wouldn’t work. 

“Um,” Thomas started awkwardly, “I’m Thomas, your new neighbor.”

The boy, Alexander, didn’t move an inch. He continued to read his book unperturbed, fingers tracing the lines, muttering the words to himself.

Well. As much as Thomas had to admit the boy was cute, that was a rude thing to do, ignoring his attempt at breaking the ice. Agitation rose in him like water vapor from the sun-baked ground. And here he had thought the boy was _approachable_ , like they could sit and read together in an impossible future. 

He swore he wasn’t thinking when he reached out and pulled at Alexander’s ponytail. 

“Ow!” Alexander burst out a yelp, shutting his book abruptly. He then turned around, finally, and fixed Thomas with a glare. “What’s wrong with you?”

It was at that moment, Thomas flipped. Alexander’s eyes were an unfathomable blue, so deep it was almost violet, filled with such limpidness that rivaled the autumn sky. A few strands of hair fell out of his ponytail, the same auburn red that mixed well with his slightly tanned skin, making Thomas ache with the desire to reach out and tug them back behind Alexander’s sharp-tipped, pixie-like ears. 

Thomas’s heart was beating against his ribcage so hard, he thought his chest could blow up any minute. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, his brain a total blank as he continued to stare at the red-haired Cupid who was fuming at him. Damn. Even with his brows knitted together and his beautiful blue eyes narrowed in annoyance, Alexander was undeniably the incarnation of cuteness. 

Thomas drew in a sharp breath. His mind was screaming at him to think of something to say, but his brain was too busy short-circuiting to make a rational choice. Unwarily, he let the words tumbled off his tongue. 

“You look like shit.”

Alexander scoffed, but his feigned indifference couldn’t mask the hurt that slowly crept onto his face. Thomas ached at the sight, knowing it was his big mouth that had caused it. I didn’t mean that, he wanted to scream, but there was no taking back the water spilled. 

“You are the one to talk, asshole.” The boy shot up and straightened his back, trying to look intimidating in his 4’5 frame. 

Thomas had to bite back a good-natured laugh.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, shortcake.” Thomas called after his new enemy, one that he absolutely hadn’t intended to make—and probably just developed a massive crush on. 

_Fortunately, Thomas excelled at hiding his crush._

Alexander flipped him the finger, angelic face scrunched up in anger. Then,he picked up his copy of the Leviathan, stormed off in the opposite direction, and unceremoniously stomped into his new house. 

_...at least Thomas thought so._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come rant with me on my Tumblr sideblog, [jamilton-rant](https://jamilton-rant.tumblr.com/), which is pretty self-evident in its name <3


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